Page 29 of The Breaking Pointe

don’t cry for me

NOELLE

I know it takes more than a few days for someone to cope with the news of something highly disheartening. That’s why I refuse to beat Colton down with my questions and concerns. I won’t say it hasn’t been burning inside of me to know what’s going through his mind, though.

It’s been about a week since the funeral, and like clockwork, every morning Colton is already awake, stuck in the middle of the couch, watching boxing highlights. If you ask me, I don’t even think he’s actually watching and retaining anything at this point. I’m pretty sure he played the same recorded highlights six times in a row yesterday, and only restarted it so it wouldn’t be quiet in the house. If I didn’t have so much patience, I’d be more forceful—but it’s obvious: he’s depressed and doesn’t want to admit it.

I’ve been waking up earlier while staying with Colton and Steven. It’s not very easy when you’re worrying about the future

of things and the well-being of people you deeply care about. Unlike the past few mornings, this one has differences. I want a warm body to hold in bed, but when I reach for one, I feel an empty space beside me. Now, lying here, I think I can be patient enough to wait for him to return to bed, but thinking I could was senseless.

I’m too curious.

Sitting up, I push the large comforter off of my body and swing my feet onto the floor. The house is oddly quiet, minus the faint sound of the living room television that reached my ears around five minutes ago. Rubbing each of my eyes, I stand up and start trekking my way out of the room, exiting out of the already somewhat opened door.

As I trudge through the hallway, my feet take me in the direction of Colton’s art room. My intuition and its closed door tells me that he’s in there. Nearing the door, I take my hand to the knob, twisting it and getting no movement. Once more, I jiggle it, parting my lips to call his name, but halting. I can’t make out if this is good or bad, but nagging him won’t solve anything. That’s what he hates.

Letting go of the knob, I run a hand through my fuzzy, unkempt bed hair, and turn around to walk back down the hall, out to the living area.

Steven’s chocolate brown hair pokes up from the couch, sitting up to look my way.

“Hi, honey,”

I say, clearing my throat quickly from my morning voice.

“Hey,”

he says, continuing to watch me walk into the kitchen from his pit view.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

I ask, focusing my attention on the coffee maker.

“No,”

he responds, his voice sounding closer this time. Glanc- ing behind me, I see him picking a seat at the island”

I can make you something? Do you like pancakes?”

I question him, reaching for ingredients from the cupboard above me”

Seriously?”

he asks with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not? I’m kind of hungry, too. If I make them from scratch, they’ll still be somewhat healthy, and vegan. If I tell your brother they’re filled with protein, maybe he’ll eat them.”

I smile to myself, thinking of Colton’s picky, athletic food preferences.

“Good luck. He never eats when he’s in one of his moods. And if he does, grab a bucket and be ready for him to blow chunks.”

Steven scoffs.

I set my mug under the coffee dispenser and turn to face him, taking a strand of my hair to twist around.

“Well I’ll be there with a bucket then.”

I nod, breathing out as I speak.

His upper lip raises in disgust”

Yeah, no wonder he’s like—in love with you. You’re definitely not like Hannah.”

He laughs quietly.

I straighten my posture, nervously smiling”

What do you mean? She couldn’t handle puke or something?”

“She didn’t like much of anything except using his money and telling him what he was doing wrong. Imagine dealing with those arguments at the dinner table.”

His eyes widen, shaking his head.

“Oh…”

I say, dropping my hands from my hair”

Sounds brutal.”

“It was. I know I rag on him a lot about his attitude, but I blame her. She made him bitter. I’m trying to understand how you, of all women, are into that. It’s gross. How romantic you

both are.”

He purses his lips, resting his arms on the island”

He’s not as bitter as you think. When we’re alone, he can

be funny and sweet. Shy and discerning. He listens to me like we’re the only ones in the universe, existing together.”

I bounce my shoulders softly”

Maybe that’s why we get each other. My ex wasn’t nice, either. It feels nice to be seen. You might understand better when you get into a relationship.”

“Yeah, well, I miss whoever he was before this happened. And before Hannah. Sometimes I think he’s back to normal, but then he proves me wrong. He’s angrier, and more uptight than I’ve ever seen. He’s mostly dead inside,”

he says, lowering his voice.

Picking up my cup of coffee, I turn back to Steven, setting it on the island.

“He isn’t dead inside. Not at all. I think he’s trying to overcome a lot. Just like you, Steve,”

I gently respond.

He looks at the counter, tracing a finger on it”

He doesn’t understand anything I’m overcoming, and he never will.”

My lips press together as I listen to him”

Well…maybe I can understand?”

I suggest.

“I doubt it. But you are the better option to talk to.” He sighs”

Better option?”

I furrow my brows.

“Yeah. Cause you like men. So do I. And Colton doesn’t know, so can you like—keep it to yourself?”

My heart skips a beat, hearing him quickly confess such a deep secret. Nodding quickly, I say nothing.

“He thinks I’m sad about a friend, and about Mom. I am sad about Mom, but that guy wasn’t my friend. He was my boyfriend, and it ended like shit. I didn’t realize I liked guys until I got closer to him. So I doubt Colton would understand,”

he tells me, sounding defeated.

“I’m sorry, Steven. I guess Cole wouldn’t entirely understand,

but I’m sure if you told him, he would. He wouldn’t care that you’re into guys.”

I try convincing him with my words. He still seems unmoved by anything I say.

“I doubt he would. He can’t even get over his own issues to help anyone overcome theirs.”

He shakes his head”

Mom used to say she thought he had some sort of post traumatic disorder because of my dad. If I knew the truth, I couldn’t judge. He keeps it to himself like gold. World’s best kept secret.”

“The truth about your dad?”

This would confirm his outrage at the comparisons of the two of the? amongst other things, like his outbursts. If it’s a secret, then that would explain even more of why the man never talks about anything. Doesn’t mean I should know it, though.

“I uh…don’t know,” he says.

“Never mind. It’s none of my business—forget I brought it up?”

I half smile.

He weakly perches his lips to the side to smile back.

As much as I’d like to know everything about everything, some things are better left unsaid. If I stick around long enough, maybe I’ll get the answers I’m looking for. I can wait for them because I’ve been waiting long enough for someone to care about me the way Colton does. If I can wait as long as I did for that, then waiting for him to break out of his shell shouldn’t be hard to do, either. When brighter days come, I’ll forget about me even thinking like this.

Making pancakes from scratch is one of the many ways my mom would make me feel better when I was sad. I might be a grown woman now, handling grown up downfalls, but you’re never too old for yummy pancakes. Especially ones with cinnamon and chocolate chips. I haven’t had a bad critique yet. Steven is now another respectable victim of delicious goodness.

After a long attempt of trying to concoct my best version of my world class pancakes, I hoped that maybe the smell of syrup and hardiness would fill the house enough to carry Colton all the way out, but no. It’d been some hours since my first step into the kitchen this morning. Enough time to feed Steven three whole pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Everything that makes for a perfect morning meal, but enjoyed by only Steven and I. Still no Colton.

“He’ll come out eventually,”

Steven says, stuffing his mouth with a large bite of fluffy pancake and syrup.

“What?”

My eyes bat as I look at him, poking at my last pancake.

“You just look worried. Or scared. One of those two,”

he clarifies.

“Oh.”

I glance at him. “Yeah.”

“It’s only twelve. He has to come out at some point. Otherwise, Bonnie’s gonna have to go bug him.”

He chuckles, breaking off a piece of his bacon before eating it and handing off the smaller piece to Bonnie, who’s been sitting beside him, waiting for her reparations”

Ain’t that right, Bon?”

I smile, watching him. Very much a Kennedy boy. They seem to have the same, wholesome characteristics. Makes me wonder if Steven is my own peek at what Colton used to be like.

Two long legs covered in plaid pajama pants step foot into the kitchen, the feet dragging to the fridge. Above the legs is a grey shirt with red stain soaked into it in various places, and a groggy looking Colton with puffy eyes and messy hair. It’s amazing what one week of no shaving can do. I won’t say it isn’t sexy—but it’d be a lot sexier if I knew it wasn’t because he’s too deep into his depressive state to shave it.

“Morning,”

he mumbles, opening the refrigerator and retriev-

ing a water bottle before closing it. He rests his back against it, watching as Bonnie immediately trots over to him, reacting by holding out a hand.

“Hi,”

I say softly, watching his weak movements”

I made pancakes. They might still

be warm.”

His head moves left to right, denying my offer”

I’m okay, sweetheart. Give ‘em to Steve. I don’t think I can eat anything,” he says.

Steven looks at him, a mouth full of food, but shamelessly devouring it as he speaks, “Why’s your shirt got red blotches all over it?”

“Uh…it’s wood stain. Nothing bad.”

Colton pinches at his shirt before yawning.

Steven takes another bite of his food, continuing to stare at Colton.

I bite my lip softly as he comes my way and glides past me, kissing my messy hair and pushing his glasses up.

“Did you sleep at all?”

I swivel my chair into his direction, looking up at him while grabbing his waist.

“No. I tried, but the more I tossed and turned, I knew I would’ve woken you. So I went and got some work done,”

he says, staying close to me, hovering.

“What were you working on for all these hours?”

I ask, trying to hear just a bit more of his calm tone.

“I wish I could say.”

He pushes some curls from my face”

You can’t?”

My brows crinkle.

“Unfortunately not. I’m enamored by your curiosity, though.”

His hand grasps my neck and jaw, firmly kissing my forehead before he lets me go and walks into the living room pit.

His body drops to the couch like he’s been waiting for it

forever, and his body weight is over one thousand pounds. Bonnie follows him like the loyal pup that she is. Not long after his drop, the man and all his secrets are snoring steadily— leaving me full of pancakes and curiosity.

* * *

A week of having no work never felt so depressing. Now that I’m back, it feels wrong leaving Cole. All day has been a constant fight to not text him, call him, or ask him any tiring questions. There’s not a reason for me to wonder what he’s doing when he tells me every day after I get off. After a thorough evaluation, it’s evident: he loves a routine. His routine was set; run, go to the gym, handle meetings and work, then meet me here when closing time comes. It’s still the same, just minus the work and meetings.

He could’ve traded it for errands, but I figured it would be more fun to make him wait until later, so that we could shop together for what’s become one of my new favorite celebrations, known as ‘Friendsgiving’.

I never celebrated the event prior to meeting Lauren, but it’s been a major event for her and her friends for years, and is the only time she gets to see certain people in her life. The first time we celebrated together was my first time away from my parents. I felt like time was moving, but I wasn’t. I felt like I wasn’t cut out for anything that I had set out to achieve, and was days away from packing a bag and saying goodbye to the New York state of mind forever. If I didn’t listen to Lauren beg me for hours to change my mind, I would’ve never stayed, hence never accolading any of my successes. Or even the bad experiences. Most recently, I would’ve never met Colton—a

concept I’d rather not think about.

With all the girls gone, it’s mail time. The worst part of living my dreams.

My palms are sweating already, thinking about what bad news lies within these envelopes. Normally it’s bills, which is always bad news, but the news I’ve been waiting for is much more impairing to my life and career. It’ll tell me if I should continue to do what I’m doing, or—on a heavier note—when I should wave my white flag and give up. Paying rent on time is one thing I’ve magically made happen the past months, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s New York City. Businesses come and go. Landlords are only looking for money, not companionship.

To know I’ve made it another day without receiving the news that I would have to shut down, would be a blessing.

Using my fingers, I pry open the first envelope that catches my eye—labeled with the company that owns the building I rent for the dance company. My fingers twitch with anxiety, steady not to harm myself with a paper cut as I slip the neatly folded papers out of it. Dropping the envelope, I unfold the papers, fixing my eyes on the first lines, reading as quickly as possible.

Dear Noelle Mayberry, and other recipients,

After careful consideration, we have decided to put Dancing Dolls’ leased premises up for sale. In an attempt to market the property, it will be necessary for us to schedule showings of the premises to prospective buyers over the course of three months, with hope to find an appropriate buyer. Apologies are offered from us for any inconveniences this may cause.

Please remember that according to your leasing agency, the landlord, Matthew Bowe, reserves the right to advertise and show this property. Appointments will be scheduled before and after

business hours, as well as reasonable hours on weekends, with adequate notice.

It is important that you cooperate by allowing access to the property and make sure it is in a clean and presentable condition. It is not necessary for you to present the property during these scheduled times. However, if this is a preference for you, we will do our best to oblige. Refusing to cooperate by not allowing access to the property is a default of your lease.

Efforts can be made to accommodate you with moving, or, in unfortunate circumstances, closing your business. We would like to thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter.

If you should have any questions or concerns, please contact us. Sincerely,

Livington Leasing Services

There it is. The ending I prayed I wouldn’t have to formulate. It’s not even the news being broken to me that’s awful—it’s that I have to break it to a group of little girls who have dreams bigger than the whole sky. Every single teeny glint in their sweet eyes is going to go dark. I can’t afford to continue to try and keep up.

I’m going to be their worst villain, when all I wanted was to help them be who they always wanted.

I don’t want their dreams to die because of me.